Lost
by TentativelyKate
Summary: Oneshot. The things that go unspoken are the things that hurt the most. I was trying to work on a simpler, cleaner style for this piece, so it's shorter and a bit different from my usual ones, but still just as good. OE, but of course.


**Lost**

**disclaimer: dick wolf is like SOOOOO wasted right now. so I can waltz right into his office and steal the copyrights from under his nose-painting face. but legally, I guess they aren't mine.**

_**if you don't ship OE, please don't read this. because I don't want to hear your 'OMFG OLIVIA AND ELLIOT ARE NOT TOGETHAH WAT R U IMPLYING GIRLFRIEND?' and neither do the throngs of OE shippers who will read this.**_

_**thanks. yeah.**_

_**awkward.**_

…

There were three pills in her palm, glowing like plastic jewels under a flickering neon light, nearly blowing out as she'd switched on the bathroom lights. She studied them with slow, brown eyes, not thinking about why they were there but only how long she'd have to take them. Why did she have to measure her life in pills?

She swallowed them methodically, unceremoniously, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror before turning away.

_I'm really sorry, Olivia. I'd like to see you every week, to keep track of your recovery. _The woman in the white coat had said to her, a sad smile on her face. _But you should start this medication between visits, to keep everything in order._

Well, it wasn't working. Nothing was in order. Nothing was right.

She pushed the door open, stepping back out into the close silence of the hallway, longing for activity to take her mind from the present, distract her from the loneliness that was creeping across the length of her soul.

"You alright?" Her partner asked, cool blue eyes studying her as she sat down in her seat, crossing her legs with care and precision and then flopping lazily against the back of her chair.

"Fine." She lied, eyes scanning over the file on her desk. "How's the Stratton case coming?"

"Not much progress." His eyes remained on her face, causing her to glance momentarily up, and she felt her cheeks blush when he noticed. "Liv, you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, really." She placed a hesitant hand over his, squeezing gently.

"If something was wrong, you would tell me. Wouldn't you?" His eyes were narrowed, caring.

"Of course." She lied again, biting her tongue at the same time but ignoring the pain.

"Good." Reassured, he returned to his work.

She watched him in silence for another hour, until coats were collected and the station was slowly deserted. Then his eyes floated up to meet hers, a small smile on his face.

"You ready to go home?"

"Ready as ever." She slid the folder into her drawer, listening for the click as her desk locked.

"What do you say we have a drink at Murphy's?" He grinned again. "On me, Liv."

"Sure." She tried to smile, but felt the familiar sinking in her stomach as she did so.

The rain was falling, but neither paid it much heed. She took his arm, wrapping herself in his right side, leaning against him for the support she could not find within herself.

Murphy's was crowded, but they managed to get a table towards the back, ordering two Scotches.

Her eyes drifted over the people surrounding them, smiling, happy. Their voices buzzed with excitement, beer, or a mixture of both, and all at once Olivia felt discomforted by the sight, remembering something that ran far too deep in her heart, remembering something that shadowed even the lights above their table.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He reached across the table, touching her arm with a gentle finger. "You haven't been yourself today."

Her heart fluttered across the room on moth's wings, gently dipping over the heads of the patrons in a weary circle.

"Liv?" He pushed harder on her wrist, shaking it ever so lightly. "Liv, what's up?"

A man in the corner let out a long laugh. She watched his head roll back as he did so, his body shaking with the burst of emotion. A couple kissed over a large collection of beer bottles, their friends cheering them on with each drunken sip. A woman walked outside their window, her daughter trailing behind, a small hand folded in her mother's palm. Her eyes caught Olivia's, and they met momentarily, large and wet and meaningful in the stark silence of the noisy room.

Olivia's breath caught in her throat. She could take it no more.

"Elliot," She turned to him, staring into eyes that were warm and refreshing. "Something happened to me."

"What do you mean?" He put down his drink. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes- well, _no,_ but that's not the point. I…I didn't have the flu last week."

Elliot's eyes widened. The drink was abandoned entirely as his hands went to cover her own. "But I thought…you were in bed for those times when I was there…" He stared harder into her eyes, blue turning to grey. "Is it serious, Liv? Just tell me."

The little girl was gone, but the reflection of her face seemed to linger in the window. Olivia stared at where it had been for a moment, recalling the large brown eyes that had seemed so similar to her own.

"I had a miscarriage."

Elliot said nothing. His eyes narrowed, and then widened, and then narrowed again.

"Does Danny know?"

"I broke up with Danny three weeks ago."

"Aren't you going to tell him?"

"No."

Elliot gripped her hands tighter. "You have to tell him, Liv."

"It wasn't his, Elliot." She said, a little louder than she'd wanted. "We hadn't even slept together yet."

The truth dawned in his eyes like a summer sunrise, bright and shining and deathly pale.

"We were drunk, then…" He said softly, clearing his throat again.

"No," She whispered, stroking a line on his hand. "We were perfectly sober, El."

"And we didn't use…"

"No." She shook her head. "I remember."

His voice broke again, and he cleared his throat with a physical shake. "So it was…"

"Yes." She said again, a tear tracing a long curve down her cheekbone. "It was yours, Elliot."

"God…" He sucked in his breath, letting it out slowly. She watched him, longing to touch him, reach out for the safety of his warmth. Their eyes wandered to their hands, tracing the lines of their palms with shocked pupils. "I feel a bit…"

"Lost?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." She let her head fall into his hands, until his palm was running over her forehead and his fingers were running through her hair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He managed, his voice barely a whisper.

"I didn't know. But then when we took the Berkley guy in, and he hit me with his elbow…" She didn't finish.

They sat like that for another half-hour, silence as their company, sadness as their witness. But then Elliot stirred and she sat up, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes and giving a loud sniff.

"Tell me first next time, Liv." He left the tip beneath his glass, leading her from her chair, letting her lean against him again, her head on his shoulders.

"'Next time'?" She gave him a small smile, through the tears. "What do you mean, 'next time'?"

"Tell me next time." He repeated, leading her home.


End file.
